


do no harm

by mwestbelle



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bruises, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Offscreen Violence, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is a rentboy; Steve works at the free clinic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do no harm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caughtinanocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caughtinanocean/gifts).



> Originally posted on tumblr; written for caughtinanocean who set me free with h/c in any AU setting I wanted!

”I used to get sick all the time,” says Steve the Overly Earnest Med Student. He’s blond and has perfect teeth, and he hasn’t figured out yet that Bucky isn’t worth his toothy smiles and perky small talk.

"You look like an ox." Bucky snorts and tugs his jacket back on. It’s ratty, was ratty when he grabbed it from a charity shop bin, but it’s better than being out there in his t-shirt.

"You didn’t know me then," Steve says. He finishes fishing around in his cabinet and offers Bucky a small bottle. "Take two of these after you eat something. If you’re still sick when the bottle is gone, come back and see me."

Bucky slips the pills into his pocket. “Sure, doc.”

"I’m not a doctor yet." Steve smiles at him. It’s brilliant and warm, like he actually cares. Bucky likes the nurses better. They know him by now, and they just run his blood tests and give him a handful of condoms before he leaves. It’s business.

*

It’s not like he has a schedule. He makes his own hours, as they say, day or night, but somehow Steve is always at the clinic when he goes in. Bucky sits in the waiting room with his feet up on the table reading a wrinkled old issue of People next to old grizzled guys and young moms with little kids trying to climb over the backs of the chairs. And Steve comes out of some exam room, catches his eye, and smiles.

And he talks. Bucky learns that he and Steve both grew up in Brooklyn, practically on the same street. He was real sickly as a kid, and that’s why he wanted to become a doctor. He wanted to help people.

Bucky doesn’t talk much. He holds his arm out so Steve can draw blood, sticks out his tongue, and breathes deep for the stethoscope. He can feel Steve hesitating when he sees the bruises on Bucky’s ribs, finger prints, scratch marks on his back. He closes his eyes until he feels the cool metal on his skin.

*

Bucky shows up with his face fucked up, a black eye and burst blood vessel, cuts on his cheek and through his lip.

"Jesus Christ." Steve walks into the exam room and drops his notepad on the counter. "What happened?

"Is it that bad?" Bucky knows it’s bad. He shouldn’t have come, not like this, but maybe he wants Steve to see. He smirks and shrugs. "Occupational hazard, I guess."

Steve shakes his head. “No. C’mon, you’re not going back out there. Come home with me.”

"Yeah," Bucky says.

He leaves and waits at the corner. Thirty minutes later, Steve’s neat blue sedan pulls up and he gets in. Steve’s apartment is small, just a studio with a bed against one wall and an easel in the other corner. 

Bucky drops his jacket on the floor; he doesn’t want it to touch Steve’s furniture. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, looking over his shoulder at Steve. “Where d’you want me? Bed? I can blow you first.”

"I don’t want that," Steve says. Bucky can tell he’s lying, but Steve doesn’t touch him like most guys would. Say no while they pull him in close. "You’re hurt. Sit down, I’m getting you ice, at least."

Bucky sits on the bed, because he’s not an idiot. He knows how this works, and he knows Steve is a good guy. He doesn’t _mind_. He thinks he might even like it, doing it for a guy like Steve. Being able to be the one helping him, for once.

Steve makes him take aspirin and guides his hand to hold the ice pack in place over his fucked up eye. His hand comes up to touch, but he just runs his thumb lightly over the scabbed over scratches.”I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Hopefully these won’t scar.”

"I’d be out of a job." Bucky tries to smile, but he doesn’t know if it works.

Steve’s hand stills, and then he’s shifting so he’s looking Bucky in his non-iced eye. “Hey. You’re going to be fine, okay? And you can stay here as long as you want. No charge, no favors. I just want to help.”

"Pretty sure this is against policy."

Steve crooks a half smile at him. “Pretty sure I don’t care.”

"Why do you care about me?" Bucky has to look away from his bright, earnest face, off at the opposite wall. "You don’t even know me."

"I know you enough to like you." Steve shrugs. "You deserve a break."

Bucky’s pretty sure he hasn’t deserved anything since he was ten years old. But Steve’s apartment is warm, and the ice is cold and soothing, and maybe it would be okay to trust someone, just this once.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on a [tumblr](http://villainsexuale.tumblr.com)! Yeah!


End file.
